Ode to Birge

Rabiya Mansoor (2L)

Oh, Birge Carnegie! How I miss your dank volumes,
Hidden behind the cramped collegial communes,
There was no class warfare in your dim basement,
A safe space that could have no true replacement.

Oh, Birge Carnegie! Your graceful allowance of snacks,
Spoke to every student: “I have always got your back,”
The six tables for six hundred students were enough,
Since Billy could find Sally and whisper: “Hey, hot stuff.”

Oh, Birge Carnegie! Your faded red lockers will be missed,
One last time I stood at 067 and mumbled: “Class dismissed,”
The hallowed hall’s lights might have been immutably subdued,
But in our bosom, for you, we will carry eternal gratitude.